


Burn

by Anonymous



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, Magic AU, alternate world au, book fic, historical fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28329225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jackson was a thief. His life was simple and while he didn't exactly like it that way, he was content enough with it. So how an unusual job request ended up with him spearheading a revolution of an entire city was, frankly, entirely beyond him.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Jackson Wang
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This universe is based off of a book series I love and adore. It is written by Brandon Sanderson and the first three books are The Mistborn trilogy. I love the world he made so much and I love Jackbeom so much so I'm merging them together... I hope you'll join me on this journey. I know it's SUPER out there, but I hope you'll give it a chance. 
> 
> What you'll need to know:  
> \- set in like medieval era equivalent with that level of tech, nobility and slaves/ poor.  
> \- this world has people who when they ingest certain metals and 'burn' them (they don't literally burn them, that's the phrase used in the text) they get unique powers.  
> \- it is a rare ability, generally limited to the nobility  
> \- people who can burn metals are called allomancers  
> \- most allomancers can only use one metal.  
> \- there is an incredibly rare type of allomancers who can burn ALL the metals. These are called Mistborn.  
> \- metals burned and abilities gained (I'll post this with every chapter so you don't need to memorize it) tin (enhanced senses), pewter (enhanced physical strength and healing), steel (push anything made of metal away from you) iron (pull any metallic item toward you), brass (soothes people's emotions), zinc (riots/ enhances people's emotions), bronze (seeks out anyone using allomancy), copper (hide people using Allomancy)  
> -there are more but I'm not going to use most of them and I've probably lost people already, so I'll leave it here for now 😂

Jackson leapt off the roof, landing quietly on an uneven cobblestone path. The mists that saturated the world every night once the sun went down sprayed violently around him at the disturbance as he paused to listen to see if anyone had heard him. They shouldn't have, his fall had been near silent, but it was so hard to find to be sure of anything in the mists. 

Jackson _hated_ them. They weren't natural. No one knew what they were or where they came from each night. They weren't made of water, didn't dampen his skin or clothes. They just distorted, obscured.

As he stood from his crouch, they drifted back in; they crept in close and brushed against his cheek, as if they knew him, as if in greeting, before Jackson waved a hand, swatting them away and dispersing them once more. 

He walked a short ways down the deserted street before stopping and looking up at the building in front of him. It didn't stand out from any of the others on this street. Made of the same aging wood, dulled by the light and the wind but still sturdy and well maintained. The sign above the door indicated that the main floor of the building was a Blacksmith, the top floor was used as housing. That he knew from the man who had sent him here. 

Raimond Tulley had sent Jackson here to steal something. Which was intriguing because normally the stuff he had Jackson steal was from the nobility in the Upper Quarter of the city. What a low class blacksmith could have that was of any interest to the man Jackson worked for piqued Jackson's interest in a way that a job hadn't for some time. 

He'd watched the building for the past two days and had seen nothing remarkable about it or its inhabitants. The owner, the blacksmith, was a pewterarm: could burn tiny shavings of pewter to give himself inhuman strength, reflexes and pain management. That was the biggest challenge for Jackson during this job, but as he had the ability to burn pewter himself, he wasn't all that worried. There were a few others who lived here too, but Tulley assured Jackson they weren't allomancers, weren't a threat. 

Jackson crossed the street to the front door and tried to pull the handle. Unsurprisingly, it didn't move. It was always worth a shot though. The handful of times it actually opened always made it worth at least trying. 

Jackson peered through the mists at the building, looking for an alternate way inside. The main floor had two windows but neither of them opened. There were windows on the upper level that were probably his best bet. 

He crept into the small alley between the smithy and the artisan shop next to it, taking a moment to gauge some distances before burning pewter once more to fuel some unnaturally strong jumps up the side of both buildings so he could grab the edge of the roof. He paused there, listening to hear if his jumps had gained any interest from the inhabitants of either building, but when he was met with silence he pulled himself up onto the roof, pewter making the task easy. 

He hesitated at the window. This was always his least favourite part of breaking in somewhere and the challenge was made infinitely more challenging in a Lower Quarter house. The nobility never had a shortage of windows and was easy enough for Jackson to break into an unused room elsewhere on the property and make his way where he needed to be once inside. But here? There were only two windows and both lead into the same room. They were old with peeling paint and Jackson just _knew_ they'd make noise when he tried to lift them up. 

The first one was a dud. He was able to easily unlock it, using steel to push the metal latch away from him and it's base, but the window was so stuck in its frame that he'd definitely need pewter to tear it free. And no amount of pewter would make that happen silently. 

He moved to the next one which was definitely better. He still used pewter anyway to make his strength easier to control and to prevent any jamming along the way. He just opened it wide enough for him to easily get in and out before stopping.

He paused on the sill once more, burning a little more tin than usual, enhancing his senses even further to check for any danger before he stepped inside. The coarse grain of the wood under his palm stood out more sharply than it had a moment ago, the sounds of people shuffling down the street became louder, the scent of candle smoke hit his nose, fresher than Jackson would have preferred or thought given the late hour.

But no sounds of life from within. Gentle snoring from behind one of the closed doors, but that was a comforting sound if Jackson was honest. It meant the occupants were asleep. 

Jackson slid through the window with ease, landing soundlessly on the floor as he looked around the space. His tin made it much easier to see in the dark, almost as if it were barely dusk instead of the middle of the night. The space was small, almost more of a generous hallway than a room. Still, the occupants had managed to utilize the space, a table and chairs sitting on one side, some cabinets and a water barrel on the other. 

He wished he had any idea what he was looking for. _You'll know it when you see it_ were the instructions he was given. That, and that it was small and that it would be extremely well protected. Tulley was basically salivating at the thought of whatever was hidden and Jackson frankly couldn't even imagine what it was.

He'd never seen Tulley look like that. Tulley, frankly, didn't care about anything. Money, gems, jewelry, weapons, they were all just tools to him. Use one to get another and then use that to get something else. The only things he cared about finding were allomancers: people who could do what Jackson could do. 

Well, not _exactly_ what Jackson could do.

Allomancers were a rarity, only about one in eighty nobles had the ability to use metals to gain an ability that one else did. About one out of _those_ eighty noble allomancers were what Jackson was: Mistborn. Someone who could burn _all_ the metals, someone who could be damn near invincible if trained correctly. 

The allomantic ability was only supposed to be among the nobility, but there were often affairs that resulted in unwanted and discarded children to the streets of the Lower Quarter. Some of them were allomancers. Tulley went around…collecting them for lack of better description. Taking them in and helping them survive and in return he'd exploit their abilities for himself. Like he'd done with Jackson. He'd taken in Jackson and his younger brother Youngjae when Jackson was fifteen. He'd been using Jackson's abilities to get things he wanted ever since. 

There was only one reason why Jackson stayed there as long as he did: the new kids Tulley collected. At twenty five Jackson was far from a child who needed taking care of, but as long as Jackson was there he could protect the kids from Tulley. Jackson was relatively docile, mostly uncaring of Tulley and his desires. Jackson had no love lost for the nobility and didn't really care what Tulley wanted Jackson to take from them. Some of nobility were so abhorrent that Jackson relished his job on rare occasion. 

The only time Jackson rebelled, the only time Jackson turned his ability on Tulley, was when the man asked Jackson to kill a child, one who'd presented as a Mistborn and who posed a threat to Tulley and his crime enterprise.

Jackson beat him to a pulp and made sure Tulley knew that if Jackson _ever_ found out that he'd harmed a child that Jackson would kill him. And he'd do it as slowly and as painfully as possible. The only thing Tulley cared about more than people who could do his bidding was his own ass. Jackson did what Tulley asked so Tulley wouldn't make the kids do it, but even Jackson had lines he wouldn't cross and that day Tulley found out exactly what those lines were. 

He'd thought about just killing Tulley on so many occasions, but murder was still something Jackson was uncomfortable with. He _had_ killed, some people were simply just entirely unredeemable and deserved it, but Jackson hadn't entirely decided if _Tulley_ deserved it 

It wasn't like Tulley _mistreated_ the kids exactly. He fed them pretty generously given the number of kids he currently had. He got them clothes and a few toys for the younger ones. He helped them train their abilities, which was certainly something they'd never have been able to get otherwise, even if he only did it to benefit himself. He wasn't a _bad_ person exactly, but at the same time he was still pretty damn far away from being a good one. 

Tulley also had a reputation among the people of the Lower Quarter as someone who helped orphaned or lost kids. He had informants all over to tell him if new kids appeared. Children who had been abandoned were skittish and terrified and without that network Jackson wasn't sure how many he could save if he killed Tulley and tried to take over helping the kids instead. 

A door slammed from down that street, echoing in Jackson's tin-enhanced ears and forcing him back to his current job. A job Jackson took more out of boredom and curiosity than anything else. Normally Jackson would have laughed in Tulley's face and told him to shove his vague descriptions up his ass and steal it himself, but Jackson's curiosity has always been a downfall of his. So here he was. Looking for something so small and so important that Tulley wouldn't even speak its name. In theory that should have made it even easier for Jackson to figure out what it was, but he was frankly at an utter loss as to what these Lower Quarter people could have that was of such incredible value. 

Jackson eyed the fraying curtains and the burn marks on the table, likely from candles. He meant no offense to the owners of the house, but this did not seem like a house where anything of great value resided. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps Tulley had given him the wrong house.

He started with the main living area, not seeing a reason to go into spaces where people were sleeping first. Did he think he'd find whatever it was out here? No. Did that stop him from looking? Also no. 

It took him about half an hour to decide that whatever it was, it definitely wasn't in that room. Probably it would have taken him ten minutes to figure that out if he hadn't been trying to make as little noise as possible. There was a moment where he _thought_ he heard shuffled footsteps coming from behind one the closed doors, but when he stopped to listen he didn't hear them again. 

He stared at the four closed doors that led to what Jackson assumed were small bedrooms. He almost talked himself out of the whole thing at this point. Given the size of the building and the size of the room Jackson was currently standing in, those rooms were _small_. He honestly wasn't sure it was even possible for him to effectively look for something without waking the sleeping occupant given how close he'd be to them. 

Perhaps coming during the day might be better. He'd seen the occupants vacate the space the last few days. Three of them worked below in the smithy and the other two went off somewhere else. It'd be much riskier in terms of being seen from the street, but less risk of being caught inside. 

Maybe… Maybe just one room. He walked over to the door with the snoring coming from within, wincing when a floorboard creaked under his weight. Pewter gave him more control over his muscles and allowed him to move more fluidly and silently, but it didn't do a damn thing for old floorboards.

Another reason he prefered robbing the nobles. They'd never be caught _dead_ with noisy floors. 

His heart dropped when he heard bedding rustle in another room, but when no one stood up Jackson deemed it safe and opened the door, stepping inside the small bedroom.

There was a young man sleeping in the bed, his limbs all over the place and his mouth open slightly as he breathed. His hair was a little too long and messy, the dark strands sprawled over the light coloured bed linens.

He looked young, probably late teens? Maybe early twenties if Jackson was being generous. Jackson stood there looking at the kid and wondering for what felt like hundredth time that night just where Tulley had gotten his information from because how the hell would a kid from the streets get something so valuable? There was _no_ way whatever it was was hidden in here. 

The floorboard creaked outside the bedroom, flooding Jackson veins with ice. 

A Pewterarm lived in this house.

Jackson wasn't the only one who could walk silently. 

He turned and saw a hulking figure standing in the doorway, blocking all of Jackson's escape routes as this boy's room had no window. The breadth of his shoulders and the size of his arms left no doubt that this was the man who could burn pewter, the one Tulley had warned Jackson about.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with ch 1 till the end. I know it's suuuuuper different and a bit on the confusing side. I had no intention of ever posting this, planning on leaving it to rot in my drafts for all of eternity, but apparently you can only do that for a certain amount of time and Ao3 is going to permanently delete this in about 37 minutes if I don't post it so what the hell, we're posting it. 
> 
> Please let me know if anyone at all would be interested in reading more 🥺


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The metals and their abilities that are mentioned in this chapter:
> 
> Pewter- enhanced strength and healing (Pewterarm)  
> Steel- push anything made of metal away from you (Coinshot)  
> Iron- pull anything made of metal toward you  
> Tin- enhance all senses  
> Bronze- detects anything made of metal

Jackson charged. The best thing he has going for him was the element of surprise. This man had no idea Jackson was Mistborn while Jackson knew he could burn pewter. Jackson had the upper hand. 

He pushed the man with a pewter enhanced shove and was halfway to the window when something wrapped itself around Jackson's ankle, yanking him to the ground. Jackson went down hard, but the pewter dulled the pain. He'd have bruises for sure, but it didn't hurt yet. He flipped over and saw the man's face now that he was facing the windows. Or, what portion of his face wasn't covered by his shoulder-length hair. 

"Who are you and why are you in my house?" He asked again, his voice dangerous. 

Jackson kicked out at him, uselessly because the man had sharper reflexes than Jackson had anticipated and reached out to grab the foot. 

Jackson swore and spun himself around, the man cursing too as his arms crossed up, forcing him to release Jackson's feet. 

His freedom was short lived because Jackson had barely managed to get to his feet before he was being yanked back forcefully, the blacksmith placing himself between Jackson and the window, effectively trapping him in. 

Jackson felt a blip of panic. He was trapped. He'd been trapped before and had made it out alright, but it was never a fun feeling knowing that you had no way out of you needed one. And looking at the size of the man in front of him, Jackson needed one. 

Pewter only went so far to enhance someone's strength. If someone was physically stronger than him normally, then they'd still be stronger than him while burning pewter. And considering this guy was a blacksmith and spent his days working on his muscles by literally bending _metal_ into shape, his daily exercise was far superior to Jackson's. 

It wasn't that Jackson couldn't keep up to him, he had modest allomantic strength and could burn enough pewter to match the guy's strength, but he would blow through his pewter supply in minutes if he did that. 

Burning metals wasn't all that dissimilar from burning wood. The bigger the fire, the more damage it did, but the more wood it consumed too. Different metals had different burn rates and pewter was the one that burned out the fastest because of how much you had to burn while using it. And Jackson? Jackson was burning through a ton of it just trying to hold his own against this guy. 

Jackson didn't have much choice. Either he burned the pewter to make sure the guy's blows didn't land or he burned the pewter to keep himself standing through the pain of the injury if they did. There really wasn't an alternate at the moment. 

And it didn't help that this guy was a good fighter to boot. He'd clearly had training. His movements were precise and powerful and he knew what to aim for to inflict the most pain.

While Jackson was considering his pewter dilemma, something crashed into the side of his head with enough force to send him sliding across the floor. He flared pewter to stop his eyes from swimming as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. 

A serving tray sat on the ground next to him. 

A metal serving tray. Jackson picked it up and threw it across the room with full force, hitting the smaller of the two shadows in one of the doorways, who went down with an awful wheeze. 

"Get Gyeom out of here. I've got this," the Pewterarm said. 

Jackson had no idea who the other man was or when he'd gotten there, the Pewterarm having been his sole focus. 

He realized in that moment that had been a mistake. 

The force in which the tray hit Jackson could only have been from Allomancy, but a Pewterarm could never have thrown it across the room so it hit him flush on the head. It would have needed to be thrown on its side, like a frisbee, like his Jackson had thrown it back. The fact the tray stayed vertical the whole time only meant one thing: one of those men was a Coinshot, could use steel to push metallic objects away from them with precision and speeds no normal person could ever hope to achieve. 

Dread slithered around Jackson's chest as he felt blood drip down the side of his face from a cut along his hairline. He didn't feel the pain of the cut just yet so he ignored it. 

There was only supposed to be a Pewterarm living here. If his information has been wrong then Jackson had no way of understanding what kind of danger he was in. 

The upper hand that Jackson thought he had was just slapped away by whoever could burn steel. 

He needed to leave. _Immediately_. He just needed to get past a Pewterarm and a Coinshot to do it. 

He got to his feet as he reached into his pocket for his spare vial of metals, something he always carried on him, wincing when his fingers met sharp edges instead of smooth glass. He pulled out a shard of what used to be his back up vial, blood from his sliced up fingers mixing with the metal shavings Jackson had been counting on to save his life and dropping to the floor.

If Jackson lived long enough to do so, he was going to murder his metal dealer for continuing to use those useless cheap glass vials. 

Jackson burned bronze; the metal would show him lines moving from his chest toward anything made of metal in the nearby vicinity. He hadn't wanted to give away his Mistborn status, but with no backup pewter it was really his only choice. 

There was nothing. Jackson bit back his frustration. A Coinshot lived here. How could there be _nothing_? Even the serving tray he'd used earlier had disappeared, probably going too far into the other room for Jackson's ability to reach it. 

Jackson swallowed and did the only thing he could think of to get out of the situation alive. He raised his hands, palm out, eyes on the Pewterarm who was approaching him once more "I'm out of metals. I concede."

The Pewterarm lunged at him in response.

Jackson braced himself against the attack, continuing to burn through his pewter at a frustrating rate. 

"Why are you attacking me," Jackson growled, trying to dodge the best he could without taking any more hits. "I surrendered." 

The man sent him a raised eyebrow. "So?"

"So you're supposed to stop trying to kill me," Jackson said, frustration as his panic began rising again. 

He snorted and kicked Jackson with a blow hard enough to break through Jackson's block attempt, sending Jackson flying back into the wall a few steps behind him, his already rattled brains taking one hit too many. 

He stayed down, not sure he could get up even if he wanted to. Everything was swimming and one of his ears was running a little. Staying down was definitely his best option. 

Hands flipped him over and a hand came up to wrap around Jackson's throat, prompting Jackson to move again. He kicked against the worn floorboard, but the wood was too smooth for his shoes to get enough of a grip to move himself out of the grip of the man on top of him. "Stop," he pleaded, his fingers trying to pry the hands from around his neck, burning his last bit of pewter in an attempt to free himself.

It didn't work. 

He felt his pewter run out and he whimpered a little as the extent of his injuries hit him with full force. Well, not full force. He was still buzzing with adrenaline. He likely wouldn't feel the true extent of his injuries until tomorrow morning. 

If he lived to see tomorrow morning. 

"Please," he begged, his voice weak and airy due to the hand constricting his airway. The expression of the man above him remained unfeeling as he stared down at where Jackson lay dying beneath him. 

God damn Tulley and god damn Jackson and his curiosity. He knew right from the start he shouldn't have taken this job. And now it was going to get him killed. 

He felt a tear drip from his eye, sliding down his temple and into his head, but he suspected it was more from lack of oxygen than a profound sadness at the prospect of his own death. 

Did he want to die? Fuck no. But a part of Jackson felt like he'd been living on borrowed time for a decade already, since he survived the fire that killed his family. He wasn't _hoping_ for death, he didn't want to leave his brother all alone, but he wasn't afraid of it either. He'd looked death in the eyes and walked away once. He knew people didn't get to do that a second time. 

At least this time death literally had eyes for him to look at. He impulsively burned a little tin, just enough to see the man's face clearer, and had to bite down on the nausea that rose sharply at the sudden, intense increase in pain that he felt throughout his white body. Not having pewter to dull it was bad enough. Using tin to enhance it was just plain stupid, but if Jackson going to die he at least wanted to see the face of the man who was going to kill him. 

The Pewterarm had sharp eyes that watched Jackson carefully, eyes that matched a sharp nose and jawline. He was handsome, almost aristocratic even. His hair was a little on the long side and hung over half his face, curling slightly at the ends. At least Jackson had something nice to look at as his vision began to dim from lack of air. 

It was infuriating being full of metals that would do him no good. He tried brass, trying to soothe the man's emotions, make him feel less murderous, but the man wasn't that riled up to begin with so it didn't do anything. 

He flared iron, seeking anything made of metal, and Pulled as hard as he was able to, desperate for something, _anything_ , that he could use as a weapon long enough to get back to his feet. Something small popped free from somewhere, landing on the floor next to Jackson before his consciousness slipped too far to be able to keep control of his Allomancy and it rolled away along with Jackson's last hope for escape. A screw or a nail probably. If he'd been stronger, that might have been enough. A small nail could be deadly with a well aimed Push. 

Jackson watched something that might have been understanding flicker across the blacksmith's face before everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long. I didn't really have anything written for it because I honestly didn't think anyone would want to read more. Thank you so much for kudos and the kind comments 🥺❤️❤️


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